


Kindness Conditioning

by GrowlingPeanut



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Asexual Reader, Collars, Gen, Master/Pet, Other, The Menagerie, Twins' Pet 'Verse, barely, but it is basically a harem, hookups mentioned, male pronouns for reader, no relationships specifically, pets are not animals they are people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-06-02 09:33:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19438717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrowlingPeanut/pseuds/GrowlingPeanut
Summary: The most recent of the Twins' pets is...technically a rescue. He's shy and skittish, but the Twins are patient.(Introduction and collaring ceremony for Tiger.)





	1. Rescue

Your heart is about to pound out of your chest. They’d just obliterated half the entire camp right in front of your eyes, what are they going to do to _you?_ You physically _jump_ when the tall one—Troy, you think is his name—snaps the flimsy, rusted padlock off the cage door with his massive mechanical hand.

They’re saying something but you can’t hear it, you’re shrinking in on yourself, you want to shut your eyes but you can’t, they’re glued to the glowing swirls on the woman’s arm as she reaches in toward you. You’re sure this is the end, you’re sure this is how you’re going to die—

She never makes contact. She doesn’t grab you, just keeps her hand extended. You sit there, watching for what feels like _hours_ until your pulse becomes a little less frantic and you can put a voice to the movement of her lips: “...you’re okay, we won’t hurt you, you can come out.”

It takes even longer before you muster the courage to do as she suggests. Slowly, agonizingly, you climb out of the cramped cage, shaking and covered in a cold sweat. Still, they don’t touch you or make any sudden movements. You’d seen them before, of course—but not in person. Your previous master (now lying in a pool of his own blood and viscera just a few yards to your left) had shown you the LiveScreams—you saw how they killed _with gleeful pleasure_ —and he’d said he would send you as a sacrifice if you ever misbehaved. It was enough to keep you nearly silent. Here, in front of you, in the flesh, they look deadlier. You swear the air around them is _crackling._

“He’s got some cuts,” Troy murmurs to his sister, motioning toward you.

You flinch away, your legs locking, caught between bolting and staying there, frozen in fear. Tyreen raises her hand again and a fearful whine escapes your throat as you see her tattoos shimmer. She shushes you. You brace for the worst—you’re going to be a drained husk on the ground in seconds—but the pain never comes. Instead, you feel a strange tingling in your arm and watch in awe as semi-fresh wounds stitch themselves shut, leaving no mark.

Troy catches your expression with sharp eyes and smirks. “No one told ya she could do that, huh?” He winks. “Best-kept secret.”

You don’t know how to answer, other than brushing your fingers over the newly-healed skin.

\- - - - - - - - - -

The COV stronghold is bigger than any settlement you’ve seen on this sorry planet. That much was apparent from the moment their raiding convoy had pulled up at the gates, but the trek to the twins’ personal lodging takes twice as long.

It had taken a few false starts and lots of gentle coaxing for them to get you into their technical and slip a pair of loose chain cuffs around your wrists, but they’re patient with you. Surprisingly so. Every time you stumble over the uneven ground, they’re there at your side. When you start to lag behind them, they slow down to walk with you. They don’t address you directly, choosing instead to carry on a casual conversation over your head. You don’t even try to listen; the adrenaline is giving way to exhaustion. From the heat, from the fear.

You’re half-unconscious by the time you drag your feet over the threshold into their home, but a cascade of cold air washes away some of the fatigue. _Air conditioning? On Pandora?_ The twins usher you through the room, Tyreen nudging your back, Troy tugging at your chained wrists. You let them settle you onto a couch, watching with sleepy awe as Troy crouches and unlocks your bindings. _Do they trust you that much? Is this a test?_

“You sure that’s a good idea?” Tyreen’s question mirrors your thoughts.

Her brother responds with a lopsided shrug. “Doesn’t look like a runner.” He sets the chains aside. “Wouldn’t get far anyway.”

He’s not wrong. You’re too tired to run. Besides, they haven’t hurt you. Yet. Still, you flinch as Troy rises to his full height, everything in you screaming to cower, to hide. You fight the urge and just sit there trembling instead.

“I’ll get some water and somethin’ to clean 'em up with,” he murmurs as he leaves.

You know the words aren’t meant for you, but they pique your interest anyway. _Why would they clean you? What do they **want** you for?_ All of this is so overwhelming—you’d heard of the COV and their ruthless leaders, but all of it had seemed so distant until they showed up on your literal doorstep, all gunfire and swagger.

Tyreen’s fingers in your hair jolt you back to the present, though you can feel the shock of the cool air wearing off into lethargy again. “What’s your favorite color?” She muses, rubbing absently at your scalp. “I think red…or maybe orange? What'cha think, Troy? Red or orange? Soft material, for sure…”

He makes a vaguely-affirmative sound as he sits down next to you. Half of you wants to pass out and the other half wants to flee. _You know they’re dangerous, they have to be, why haven’t they **done** anything to you yet—?_

“Yeah, soft is good,” Troy agrees. “Never had one this, uh… _twitchy_ before.”

You get the sense that you should feel offended, but you’re too tired to care. Besides, you _are_ nervous. It’s not subtle. They’re both _so close_ to you, you’d be stupid not to feel at least a _little_ tense— The cool, wet cloth against your skin makes you jump. They both laugh and you feel heat rush to your face.

“Relax…” Troy purrs, rubbing the cloth in slow circles over your arm. “Just cleanin’ you up a little… You’ve had a… _rough_ day.” He laughs. It’s a little too dark to be friendly.

The twisted humor isn’t lost on you. It’s comforting, in the sickest sense possible. _This_ is the behavior you expected of them. Everything before had been too compassionate, too surreal. At least now you know your fight-or-flight response is justified. Not that any of that matters, currently, because your eyelids are _so heavy_ and the rhythmic motions of Troy’s hand are rocking you gently, lulling you into a complacent daze that feels _safe,_ despite every warning in your brain screaming the opposite.

\- - - - - - - - - -

It feels like no more than two minutes have passed by the time you find the strength to open your eyes again, but…something’s… _off_. You blink away the drowsiness, trying to let your brain catch up and take inventory. New clothes. Clean skin. Cool air. Pieces start to connect, floating together one by one into a fragile string. _Raid. Twins. Capture. Release? No… Maybe._ You remember Troy wiping the dust from your body— Troy. _Troy!_

You jolt upward, pushing off the warm surface beneath you, doubly startled when you hear a soft ‘ _oof_ ’ and feel a metallic hand bracing against your back. “Easy, _easy_ …you’ll crack a rib…” You stare down at Troy, trying to connect the dots. _Had you been sleeping **on** him?_ “Mine, not yours,” he clarifies, guiding you back down.

You want to resist, but that odd tenderness in how he handles you throws your usual instincts off-course. Another set of hands finds your head as you hesitantly settle back against Troy’s chest.

“You’re safe here,” Tyreen soothes. “Just go back to sleep…” Her voice is so soft, so different from her typical manner of speaking. You let yourself relax just enough to be swayed by Troy’s breathing beneath you. “We’ll take good care of you, don’t worry.”

You almost believe her. Nestled in the warmth of Troy’s embrace, with her fingers massaging through your hair…you _almost_ believe her.


	2. Collaring

It was strange, going from one kind of captivity to another. Even stranger was the fact that, so far, the infamous Calypso Twins—rumored to be warlords in their own right—were gentler and more forgiving than your previous master. They’d fitted you with a simple collar, just a strip of orange leather with a small metal ring in the front, but that was the extent of their direct involvement with you for the first few days.

Mostly, you kept to yourself, watching their other...pets. You hadn”t been entirely surprised to find out you weren’t the only one—the shock had come from how _many_ others there were. You wanted to get to know them, learn the social structure, but you were just too _nervous_. You felt out of place. How long had they been here? How had they been chosen? Were they found like you? Offered? Hand picked? You had too many questions and not enough courage for the answers.

The others, thankfully, didn’t go out of their way to bother you. They acknowledged you, offered reassuring smiles when they caught your eye, but didn’t approach—just let you sit by yourself and observe. The atmosphere was an interesting one. Surprisingly pleasant, for what you assumed was essentially a harem, not that you had any frame of reference. They didn’t seem to have cliques. Favored friends, sure, but they all got along, no one seemed to dislike anyone else. They laughed, joked, complained, fantasized.

You quietly filed away the information they gave freely in their conversations. _Troy likes to bite. Tyreen is sloppy kisser. Both of them are incredibly protective. They like to cuddle in the mornings. Tyreen snores, but only Troy is allowed to tease her about it._ Every pet had their purpose—which was, more often than not, in regards to something carnal. When the subject came up again on the third day, your expression must have given away your distaste.

“We’re not all here for that,” one of them remarked, barely glancing up from the book they were reading. “They know who’s not into that and they don’t give a shit. They want us for other things.”

“Yeah, there’s a reason we call you ‘Troy’s Chew Toy,” another laughed. “He goes harder on you than anyone else.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

Your brain swam with this new information. _Did they really mean… Were you supposed to take that **literally**?_

“Don’t listen to them.” A young blonde with a sunny-yellow collar twisted the cap back onto the bottle of nail polish she’d been using. “They’ll find out what you like on the night of your collaring ceremony.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “C—collaring?” Your voice left you in a weak whisper, raspy from disuse.

“Oh! He speaks!”

“Shut up, leave him alone. Everyone goes through a public initiation ceremony,” the blonde explained, crossing the room toward you. “We get new, fancier collars—”

“Yeah, these are just the casual ones they can yank us around with.”

“—and you spend the night alone with both of them—”

“And the walls aren’t soundproofed around here, so—”

“Twins’ sakes, will you let her talk?! He needs to hear this from someone who isn’t horny.”

“Ash gets horny!”

“Yeah, but she’s not _right now_.”

The blonde—Ash, apparently—sat down next to you, rolling her eyes. “You’ll get used to them. They’re right, though. About the collars. ...and the soundproofing.” She studied your face for a moment, then sighed. “Don’t stress about it too much. It sounds worse than it actually is.”

Telling you not to stress was like telling a rakk hive not to hibernate, but you knew she meant well. You just hoped she was right.

\- - - - - - - - -

The rest of the week leading up to the ceremony passed quietly, uneventfully. The twins made an appearance in the common room almost every night, sometimes bringing gifts or food for you and the others. They encouraged you to spend time with them, but never forced it; they didn’t get upset when you shied away from their hands and would ultimately leave you alone, retreating back to their private rooms with their chosen bedwarmers trailing closely behind them.

During the days, when the twins were out, occupied by their facade of godhood, the other pets showed you around, letting you in on the essentials and secrets of your new home. There was, in fact, a single soundproofed room. It was known as The Sanctum, and it was a completely twin-free zone. You’d expressed your disbelief, but the others assured you that the twins themselves had implemented the system. You could spend time to yourself, free of consequences, without the possibility of being summoned.

“Everyone has bad days where they just want to be left alone,” one of them had softly quipped, adjusting her glasses with a friendly smile. “They understand that.”

Gradually, your fears began to subside.

\- - - - - - - - - -

The night of the ceremony felt different from the others. The air was charged. The ambient bustle of the stronghold seemed louder. The other pets were excited. And you were in a bath. An actual, warm bath.

“Hand me that soap, Troy? Thanks.” Tyreen’s hands were firm but gentle against your skin—you were still very aware that she could eviscerate you, but your eyes were shut and it was impossible to do anything other than relax while submerged in warm water, so you allowed it.

“Feels good, huh?” Troy’s voice was somewhere to your left, kinder and lacking the overtone of brashness it usually carried.

You nodded silently.

“Gonna get you all prettied up for the cameras…” _Wait. Cameras?_ Your sudden tenseness drew a sigh from Tyreen. “They didn’t tell you, did they?” Her fingers rubbed over your shoulders. “There’s gonna be cameras. And a crowd. Just _relax,_ we’ll be right beside ya the _whole_ time, won’t we, Troy?”

“Yep, just you and us up on that stage. ‘Sides,” you opened your eyes in time to see him reach out and press his fingers under your chin, tilting your head so you were looking directly into his clear blue eyes. “Tonight? _You’re_ the important one.”

\- - - - - - - - - -

It was the first time you’d been outside since they’d found you. Dusk was falling across the desert; the cooling breeze caught the hem of your sheer hooded robe. You toyed with the fabric, trying not to pay too much attention to the sounds of the growing crowd below. Earlier in the week, the twins had taken your measurements; you hadn’t had the courage to ask why at the time. It clicked after your bath, when they’d presented you with a gauzy, golden, multi-layered robe. You’d been expecting some sort of regalia, given that it was a ceremony, but you honestly hadn’t expected something so _beautiful_. The back was sheerer than the rest, showing off your shoulder blades and neck. It shimmered in the light when you moved. Of course, it fit like a _dream_.

You’d begun to believe Troy’s words when you’d slipped into it, twirled in the mirror, seen the expressions of fond _pride_ on the twins’ faces as they watched you. You’d begun to understand how easily they’d crafted their divinity and convinced so many people they were gods. _You_ felt like one. Some of the confidence was fading, however, as you stood on the balcony. You couldn’t _see_ the crowd, but it sounded… _substantial_.

“All you gotta do is stand there and look pretty,” Tyreen chirped, fixing your hood. “It’s not hard, that’s all me and Troy ever do.” She laughed to herself. “We’ll handle the talkin’, you just follow our cues.”

Troy stepped into place on your right, setting his hand on your shoulder. “You got this, Tiger.”

You didn’t have time to look up to see his expression before they escorted you to the edge of the balcony. The noise from below reached a deafening swell. All the anxiety of your past life resurfaced, shooting up from the dark corners of your mind where you’d been trying to leave it and forget about it—

Troy raised his right arm and the crowd fell immediately into hushed murmurs. The tracker-cam hovering just off the corner of the railing bobbed and whirred. “Another lost lamb has entered the Sacred Flock!” An enthusiastic but conservative cheer rose from below. “Rescued from a cruel fate at the hands of _heathens!_ ” The cheering became rowdier. “He joins us now as part of our _family!_ To be respected, protected, and included in the collective of the Children of the Vault!”

The cheering crescendoed until Tyreen signaled in the same way Troy had, only with her left arm. “The Twin Gods demand he be treated with the same reverence you show us! Failure to do so will result in appropriate punishment!” Her markings flared, glowing visibly even under the floodlights.

Troy gave your shoulder a barely-perceptible tap. “Step forward to receive your blessing.”

You did as he commanded. You felt your hood being pulled back as you took the few necessary steps to the edge of the balcony, but barely had time to wonder if it was part of the ritual, because as soon as your head was uncovered, the entire crowd dropped to one knee.

“Blessed lamb of the Sacred Flock, accept this symbol of your devotion to the Children of the Vault.”

You fought to stay still as Tyreen lifted your new collar out in front of you for the crowd—and the cameras—to see. Dainty, doubled chains hung down in half-moons on either side of the sturdy, solid center ring. Silver studs set into the bright teal leather reflected the lights, and there in the center, fastened just below the ring, was a tiny blue bell. _It was gorgeous._

“This collar signifies your loyalty to the Twin Gods,” Troy continued as Tyreen brought the collar up to your throat. You felt the delicate chains settle against your skin. “It grants you protection and privilege.” Warm fingers fastened it at the back of your neck. You couldn’t suppress a shiver. “Wear it with pride.”

As soon as the last words left Troy’s lips, the crowd bowed their heads. “ _The Children of the Vault welcome you, Blessed Lamb. Live your life bathed in the glory of the Twin Gods._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> Written for cacklefrendly.


End file.
